An overpowering stench of rotten egg rises from clouds of steam surrounding a bathtub-sized hole. It was carved out of the rocks here several millennia ago.
Shivering in the late spring breeze whisking off the bay beneath me, I slip into my swimsuit and slide inside. Worn by the bodies of countless bathers, the stone is silky soft. I soon forget the eggy scent of sulphur as I sink up to my neck in the hot spring waters and watch the sun descend in a scarlet blaze over the bay where Agamemnon sheltered with his warships on his way to Troy.
